


Persephone

by OldDVS



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-03
Updated: 2019-07-03
Packaged: 2020-06-03 14:38:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19466080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OldDVS/pseuds/OldDVS
Summary: Harry decides to save himself from the Dursley's.  There are mythological references and some conversations, but no actual sex or anything.





	Persephone

**Author's Note:**

> Another one written fifteen years ago and resurrected from the files of doom.

Persephone by Tara Tory

It was a beautiful day in spring, a Saturday which was not, most unfortunately, a Hogsmeade weekend. The school year was drawing to a close and the students were all feeling the pressure, even those who were most careless of their studies.

Hermione had her two friends ensconced on a rock which was halfway up a sunny slope not very far from the castle. Their books were spread out on the rock which served as an impromptu desk but at the moment the students were taking a break, leaning back in the grass and talking among themselves.

The talk had turned to their summer plans. Ron had told about a visit the family was to take to visit Bill and then Charlie. Hermione spoke of a canal boat one of her cousins was loaning her parents for two weeks. Harry just lay on his back, eyes wide open as he stared into the blue sky and the slowly moving scraps of white cloud which drifted through it.

“Just once, couldn’t you go somewhere else for the hols?” Ron asked Harry.

“No.”

“It’s like it’s ordained. Persephone had to go down and spend three months in Hades. Zeus, the King of the Gods, so commanded,” Hermione said, in a wry tone.

“What?” Harry said, sitting up and rubbing his temple.

“I swear, you must have gone to the worst primary school in the country,” Hermione complained, not for the first time, and then she proceeded to tell them all about the myth about the seasons, including both the Greek and Roman names of all of the characters, and all the variations she could remember. Ron groaned and pretended to put his finger in his ears. She boxed those ears lightly and called him a prat. The sun rose higher in the sky. They went back to their studying for another hour. Just before lunch time, the house elves brought picnic baskets to the children outside, and the cries of delight could be heard echoing across the grounds.

They enjoyed their picnic, munching until the basket was empty, drinking deep of the cold water which had come with it. Even Hermione did not complain as they stretched out afterwards. She closed her eyes, resting under the benign rays of the sun. 

Harry’s quiet voice interrupted the near silence. “You’re right,” he said. “It’s exactly like that.”

“What?” Ron said, partly lifting his head, but letting it fall back down to his crossed arms, which he had been using for a pillow, when it became clear there was no immediate problem to deal with.

“Persephone. Only it is the opposite, of course. I have to spend three months in Hades–the Dursley’s--every summer, instead of three or four months down in Hell in winter. The difference is,” Harry went on, “Persephone was at least Queen in Hades.”

“Queen? Queen Harry?” Ron teased, and both Harry and Hermione reached out an arm and shoved him. Harry had told them about his bisexuality at Christmas and by now they were comfortable enough with this aspect of their friend that they could joke about it. 

“Ron!” Hermione sighed in exasperation.

“Well, What did Persephone have to complain about? At the end, I mean. She got to have a sex life down there, didn’t she? Spent the other eight or nine months as she liked. Not so bad, I’d say,” Ron said.

“Ron!” Hermione said again, and thunked him in the shoulder. “She was kidnapped, forced to have sex against her will, and had no choice about how she was to lead her life!”

“It’s a story!” Ron protested.

“Doesn’t make it right!” she countered. “Think what she must have felt, as the day she had to return to hell grew closer and closer and–oh dear.” She shot a guilty glance in Harry’s direction.

“Way to go, ‘Ne.”

“I have an idea. You two stop bickering and I can tell you about something I think is important,” Harry said dryly. 

“Oh, Harry! Sorry. What?” Hermione said, sitting up.

“Well. Help me out here. When Demeter couldn’t get her daughter free, she threw a huge hissy fit and eventually everyone else petitioned Zeus to DO something about it, right? She caused trouble until they saw the light and helped her out?”

“You want to bring the twins in to make so much trouble that–“ Ron began, and then ducked a bit of thrown biscuit.

Harry went on as if he had not been interrupted. “That wouldn’t work, but is there anyone, an adult, who can petition for me? Somebody important? You know, famous, so they’d have some clout.” They all thought for a moment. No name came to mind.

Ron said, “Harry, the only person I know who’s, well, famous, is you.”

“He’s right, Harry. Maybe, for once, you can get your fame to help you some way.”

Harry sighed. “I guess I can do it myself.” He sounded a little doubtful. 

“You have to go petition Zeus, then?” Ron asked. “Who’s Zeus, anyway?”

“Dumbledore. Not Fudge,” Hermione replied. “Even if he thinks he is.”

Harry said in a thoughtful voice, “If I let the Dursley’s hurt me, it’s–wrong. It feels more wrong every year. If I protect myself from the Dursley’s I lose my chance at Hogwarts and my future as a legal wizard. I get kicked out of Olympus. It’s not fair.” He sighed. “The other question is, what were the pomegranate seeds?”

“Pardon?” Ron scratched his head.

“No, think,” Harry said. “What caused me to have to spend all this time locked up with people who hate me?”

“Something outside your control. Like Persephone. It wasn’t her fault. She had to eat,” Ron pointed out.

“Well, apparently she didn’t have to,” Hermione said. “She starved herself, in sorrow, for months. Not exactly a plan Harry can follow.”

“But that’s an idea. Harry could pretend to be sick. A summer in the Infirmary isn’t so bad.” Ron was considering the idea, but the look on his face showed he wasn’t too sure it could be pulled off.

“The Dursleys would be glad if I starved myself–save them money. Bet they could even get out of paying for the funeral.”

Hermione was still thinking about Persephone. “The poor dear was probably skinny as a rail. I wonder which came first, the depression or the anorexia?” Hermione shook her head, and then realized what Harry was saying. “Harry!”

“I want at least to be free to chose my own prison. I WANT to spend my summers underground, having sex and eating pomegranate seeds,” Harry said.

“It’s that Snape thing again, isn’t it,” Ron said, clawing at his face with his fingers as he rolled over and sat up. “I don’t understand that at all, mate. It’s just sick.”

“I know. But there’s just something about him that appeals to me,” Harry said. It really didn’t make any sense to him, either, but just about the time he had figured out that he liked boys as well as girls, he had decided that Snape was dead sexy. It might be, he thought, that Snape was thin, muscled, dark, long-haired and intelligent–everything that the male Dursley’s were not. Sometimes he wondered how many of his “choices” were affected by how Dursley something was. Or was not. And if that would ever be the cause of a fatal decision on his part.

Meanwhile, there was Snape. One night, after staying up trading confidences with his friends until midnight, he had confessed his attraction. He’d been as amazed as his friends at what was falling from his mouth. Every once and awhile after that, Ron asked him if his insanity had gone away. He didn’t quite want to confess to Ron that it was actually growing a little stronger.

“What would happen,” Ron said slowly, “If you just refused to go stay with the Muggles?”

“I suppose they could freeze you in stasis or turn you into a fern for the summer,” Hermione said, only half joking. “If they just want to protect you, why not turn you into a rock and keep you on the mantle?” She answered herself, “ No, It’s obvious you have to stay yourself, in order to grow and learn.” 

“I’d prefer to stay on the mantle,” Harry said, almost viciously. 

“Have you asked to stay before?” Ron asked.

“Yes. The headmaster said no. In that gentle way he has that doesn’t let you argue back.”

“First thing is to learn how to counter *that* Ron suggested.

“Maybe it will be different this time. You’re sixteen now,” Hermione pointed out. “Almost seventeen.”

“Yeah, and if I were you I’d have some counters to their arguments ready,” Ron added. “And some plans. Where *would* be a safe place for you?”

“Someplace with a lot of wards that won’t put you in the hands of the death eaters or the ministry. Or put the people who live there in danger,” Hermione said thoughtfully.

“Hogwarts. It’s the only place, really.” Ron looked over at the castle. “Pretty sad shape our world is in. When you can’t think of even a safe place for someone to go.”

“I suppose I can’t stay here because there’s no one to watch me. The teacher’s have their own lives,” Harry said. “What if I offered money? If I have enough galleons, maybe someone would be willing to give up one summer.”

“How much do you suppose it would cost?” Hermione asked, rather interested.

“What do they pay teachers, anyway?” Ron asked. “None of them ever look–I mean, they can’t get paid fantastically well because they buy their clothing at the same places my parents do, even I can recognize styles and fashion. Except Snape. His are really good quality but the style is really old. Fifty years,” he guessed, without a clue how close he was to being correct.

“I wonder why he....” Hermione was speculating, tapping on her chin and pursing her lips. It was a bad sign which both her companions had observed before. Each of them was wondering frantically how to head her off at the pass.

“I’m going to do it.” Harry announced.

“Exactly what?” Hermione asked, drawn back to the problem at hand.

“I’m going to say I won’t go.” Harry said it firmly.

“You’ll find yourself at the Dursley’s anyway, with a memory charm on you,” Ron said.

“There must be a way to counter memory charms. I’m sixteen. I’ll say I won’t go, and I’ll suggest an alternate plan.”

“What if Dumbledore just says no?” Ron said, playing devil’s advocate remarkably well.

“I’ll try and get in touch with you in a couple of years, tell you where I am, how I’m doing,” Harry said. Hermione started to laugh, but let it die away suddenly.

“You mean it,” Ron said, with awe in his voice.

“Let’s hear it for Persephone,” Hermione said, and there was just a little bit of a smile on her lips. “You’ll be joining me in the library tonight, then. You have a lot of spells and counter spells to research, and not a lot of time to do it. Nam et ipsa scientia potestas est. Knowledge is power,” she told them.

Early May

“Come in,” Dumbledore said to Professor Snape late one evening. Snape, who had been called to the Headmaster’s office, found the experience almost as nerve-wracking and uncomfortable as did most of the students. He sat when graciously offered to do so and took the cup of tea that floated over to him.

“I have need,” the old wizard said, “of a favor.”

Snape was suspicious at once and scowled. He had done favors for the old man before. 

“I know, Severus, that you spend a great deal of your summers hard at work on your potions, which you sell at the end of the summer to supplement your income.”

Snape’s scowl became a little darker.

“How,” Dumbledore said hopefully, “would you like some extra money?”

“The trick?” Snape said, going right to the point.

“I need to find a safe place for Harry Potter this summer,” Dumbledore confessed.

“No.”

“Severus–“

”Absolutely no. I would embellish the no with a great list of synonyms if I could be bothered to do so, but a plain and simple no should suffice. Even for you.” 

“It would be worth your time. Surely you could use fifty galleons. I can’t have him with me, as you know I have appointments and responsibilities that take me away.” 

“You think it would be safe for him to be in the dungeons with me? Aren’t you forgetting a few things about me?”

“Not one thing,” Dumbledore mumbled.

“Just send him with his Muggle relatives as usual and let me get back to my dungeons,” Snape demanded impatiently as he stood up.

“I–cannot.”

“What?”

“I can’t. I’m utterly shamed in this matter, Severus.”

“Whatever are you talking about?”

“Listen,” the old wizard said, and flicked his wand. Harry Potter’s voice seemed to come from the corner of the room.

“I’m sorry sir, and I say this respectfully, but I won’t go back there.” It was said calmly, firmly. Potter sounded remarkably mature. Snape was, frankly, amazed. It occurred to him that when he didn’t actually see Potter, when he had only the lad’s voice to use for evaluation, he had a different reaction to him. More tolerant? Interesting.

“I don’t know why you say there is no other place for me, perhaps there isn’t a safe place, but I won’t stay with the Dursleys. Perhaps you’re teaching me self control or some other virtue this way, but I don’t care.”

“How melodramatic,” Snape murmured, but Dumbledore held up a hand to stop his words.

“It’s not that I can’t. It’s that I won’t. Because I’ve gotten used to it,” Potter said. “The kicks, the screams, the cruel jokes. Being prodded out of my bed at dawn to cook a breakfast no one eats until eight, and punished then because it isn’t hot. Being locked into the cupboard or my room for hours, and having to pee into a bottle because they won’t even let me out to use the bathroom. Being poked with pins and slapped and pinched. Knocked down the stairs. Refused food and water at another’s whim. 

“ I’m used to all the words, too. Ugly bastard. Freak. Oddball. Dork. Better if I had died with my parents, they tell me once a week. There’s a new bruise on me for every day of the summer. Small ones, you can hardly see some of them. I’m used to that. The soap I’m not allowed to use–they have a special low priced bar just for me, and no towel hanging in the bathroom that I’m allowed to touch. My toothbrush dipped in the toilet if I accidentally leave it in the bathroom. No place set for me at the table. No clothes except hand-me-downs, no shoes that fit, no privacy. Kicks and pokes to my privates. Scrubbing the floor, painting the house, washing the car, mowing the lawn, weeding the garden in the hot sun but not allowed a drink for hours at a time. I’ve gotten used to it, sir and the truth of the matter is, no one should.”

Snape could hear the deep breath the boy took. “I’m sixteen. I shouldn’t live in fear that somehow I’ll use magic to defend myself and lose everything. I shouldn’t cower with my hands over my head, knowing that with one word I could stop the pain, but then also lose my friends and my future. I shouldn’t have to start the summer by secretly buying bandages and sticking plasters because I know I’ll need them and they won’t bother to have any on hand. I shouldn’t have to let them do those things to me. 

“I shouldn’t have to arrive at Hogwarts every year knowing no more than when I left because I’m not allowed to study or do my summer assignments. I can’t even read Muggle things during the summer, there is hardly a book in the place, and when they catch me reading I get a smack to the face for wasting time. 

“I shouldn’t have to sit in class each fall and listen to someone call me ignorant as a rat and stupid as a Muggle and know that it’s true. I shouldn’t have to fight for the right to be treated as a real person. 

“I’m not asking for much. Just a place to stay in the summer that’s reasonably secure. I don’t need a fancy house to stay in. A corner with a bed in it. A desk and a lamp. Access to books if I’m to do my homework. Some place to exercise a little. I’ll cook my own food and clean up after myself. I’ll pay for it. My room and board, and something for someone to keep an eye on me, since you insist I have a nanny.”

“My goodness, Harry,” said the Headmaster’s voice.

“I know that you’ve worked hard on the wards at 4 Privet Drive, and I’m sorry if that all goes to waste now, but if I have to, I’ll go off on my own to take care of myself this summer. I don’t mind being alone. I’m always alone in the summer, even if the others are home.”

Dumbledore stopped Potter’s voice with another wave of his hand. He patiently waited for Professor Snape to stop laughing. Professor Snape had always had a strange sense of humor.

“And you think he would be better down with me?” Snape finally asked. “I’m sure he’d just love ten weeks with the teacher he most hates. Do you think he’d avoid blows and being called names by being with me? Don’t you think that it would just be trading one hell for another? I admit this surprised me, for it does not fit the image I had of the boy. Well, in one way it does; surely only a Gryffindor would have put up with that nonsense. One year at Hogwarts should have shown him that not all people live such a life. What kind of fool would keep going back?”

“I trusting one. He thought it necessary. I told him so. I sent him,” Dumbledore said. “Even after he asked, last year and the year before as well, if he could go somewhere else. I sent him.” Dumbledore had tears in his tone. “He trusted me.”

“Even you didn’t imagine he was stupid enough to go back into misery. You think too highly of people, Albus, you have too much faith. It is not at all hard to solve your little problem. Find a poor but worthy couple–that Forsley chit who married that Cramburton idiot comes to mind. Minerva was moaning about how they had to leave their flat last week and couldn’t find anything suitable on the money he was making. Easy enough to put them all in a tower for the summer. He goes off to work, Harry stays and studies with her to tutor him. God knows he needs it.”

“A nice solution, Severus, but despite recent events I do know something of human nature. I can’t keep a teenage boy in close proximity to a lovely young woman only six or seven years older than himself for hours every day. They–it might–what I mean to say is–“

”Don’t be missish Albus, it hardly suits you. You really are unobservant. The young man is entirely light on his feet. The young woman would be no temptation at all, I assure you.”

“Ah,” said Albus quietly. “So that is why you will not take him under your care.”

“Because I should kill him if I had to endure him for more than a few days.”

“It’s because he is young and attractive and you do not trust yourself.”

Snape scowled. “Just the opposite. I trust myself entirely. It is teenage hormones in which I do not care to put my faith. That and his good sense. He has no judgment. He is, as he stated, *used* to abuse. He would accept it in a relationship, it is all he knows. Put him down in the dungeons with me and instead of discovering that there was someone he hated more than the Dursleys, the dratted boy would just–“

”Fall in love?” Dumbledore said softly.

“Think he was at any rate, he has need for approval from those in authority over him. I will not endure a lovesick brat hanging on my heels.”

“If you were to....”

“No. You don’t set a cat to guard the pigeons. Yes, I can resist, but I know my own weaknesses,” Snape admitted. “He’s a stupid brat, but he has physical charms. I see no reason to allow myself to be tortured.”

“Very well, Severus, you have made your point. I shall have to seek further for a solution to the problem, and I will take your suggestions under advisement.” Albus nodded that he could go. 

Snape went, rather quickly, back to his dungeons. As always when he was agitated, he soothed himself with making potions for a few hours. He was not happy, when he finally stopped to prepare for bed, to find that he had produced a large amount of lubricant, a batch of calming potions and a certain dark potion that induced impotence. He didn’t dare contemplate what it meant.

Late May

“What did Dumbledore want?” Ron asked, reaching for the salt. 

Hermione shoved it into his hand and turned her head towards Harry. “Yes, you were there quite awhile.”

“He gave me–choices.” There was a touch of awe in Harry’s voice. Choices. 

“For this summer?” Ron asked.

“Yes. He said I could live here at the castle and have a tutor.”

“All summer?” Ron asked in horror.

“Yes, but I could choose whatever I wished to study. I could finally catch up!”

“Your marks are okay,” Ron said, puzzled.

“It’s not my marks it’s–all the things I don’t know. You were surprised when I had never heard of Constance O’Malley.” 

“Well, she’s famous.”

“As the witch who had the most children in the last century or so,” Hermione put in. “Also the most children from one mother to attend Hogwarts. Twenty two,” she stated. “It’s in Hogwarts, a....”

“History,” chorused Ron and Harry. She rolled her eyes. 

“Dumbledore also said that I could live at the castle and have a job, if I preferred.”

“A job? Paying money?” Ron asked, impressed.

“Yes. Odd jobs, I suppose you could call it. Helping Hagrid and Professor Sprout and the others. In either case, the tutor or the job, I have to be with someone all day, not leave the grounds all summer, even to go to Hogsmeade, and have to be inside the castle from darkness to dawn.”

“I can see how it was easier for him to just have you at the Dursleys.” Ron passed the platter of meatballs to Harry. 

“He said he trusted me to be responsible.” Harry smiled at the memory. “He also said I could have the two of you visit on my birthday. Oh, but you have to promise not to tell anyone where I am.”

“It *is* getting complicated,” Hermione said, pausing in her meal to think about it. 

“So which are you going to have, the tutor or the job?” Ron wanted to know.

“I don’t know. I want both.”

Hermione leaned forward. “You don’t need the money? Do you? And you’ll have lots of opportunity to work, but these are the school years. I’d go with the tutoring.”

“I’d go with the job. Keep your muscles toned for Quidditch and then you can think of something really great to do with the money.” Ron was obviously thinking of quite a few things he’d do with the money if he had it. 

“I don’t have to make up my mind for a week,” Harry said. “But you know what the best part of it is?”

“No Dursleys,” Ron nodded.

“Well, that, and–do you think Snape stays in the castle all summer?” Harry’s look of anticipation caused Ron to roll his eyes. And gag.


End file.
